Both our diaries say we went to Janie;s friend and former colleague Viv’s place for dinner, but Janie’s diary also has some temporally confounding stuff in it:
7.30 Viv dinner. 6.00 Ian for dinner.
Orlando at 7.00 (film start 7.10)
[then Viv’s Temple Fortune address, redacted for this purpose]
From memory, this scheduled evening at Viv’s was postponed, perhaps more than once, owing to Gray (Viv’s partner) being indisposed. Busy chap was Gray – I think we were supposed to have dinner with him quite a few times but only actually did so a couple of times.
Anyway, I do recall going to see Orlando with Janie very soon after it opened in the UK. Janie was very keen to see it.
Writing 25 years later, this piece seems in extraordinarily bad taste.
Not only did the death of Princess Diana transform her overnight from being a valid butt of jokes to being more or less untouchable with comedy…
…but in any case I suspect that any jokes about bulimia would be considered poor taste now.
Back in the 1990s though, this quickie often had the audience in raptures – it ran and ran. That’s what sick humour can do.
Here’s the quickie lyric – short and not at all sweet:
SHE AIN’T HEAVY, SHE’S BULIMIC
(Sickie Quickie to the Tune of “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”)
The colon’s long,
With many a winding turn;
The dinners that you prepare,
Should get there.
But the food,
Isn’t staying down at all;
She ain’t heavy,
She’s bulimic.
In May of that year, I paired the lyric with a short sketch, thus:
EATING DISORDERS
(A quickie sketch plus quickie song)
NOSH AND THROW
VIDAL:Hello. My name’s Vidal Sassoon; and I’ve always been a great admirer of this scrawny cow.
DIANA:My name’s Princess Di; and Vidal Sassoon makes me throw up.
VIDAL:Still. Business is business. So putting our differences aside, we’ve developed this wonderful new calorie controlled diet.
(Holds up sample)
It’s called “Nosh……
DIANA:…..and Throw”.
SHE AIN’T HEAVY, SHE’S BULIMIC
(Sickie Quickie to the Tune of “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”)
The colon’s long,
With many a winding turn;
The dinners that you prepare,
Should get there.
But the food,
Isn’t staying down at all;
She ain’t heavy,
She’s bulimic.
The lyric was sometimes paired as above, sometimes with other sketches or skits that made it seem more topical, but it ran in the show on and off for years.
Here is another version of the lyric from April 1995 with a story about the then Lady Althorp, Di’s sister-in-law, who apparently was also bulimic.
EATING DISORDERS – LADY ALTHORPE REMIX
(A quickie sketch plus quickie song)
KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY
INTERVIEWER: Lady Althorpe, do eating disorders run in your family?
LADY A: No, but noses run in our family.
INTERVIEWER: That is an extremely old joke, Lady Althorpe.
LADY A: I know, but you can’t keep a good joke down.
INTERVIEWER: I see. And of course, you can’t keep a good meal down either.
SHE AIN’T HEAVY, SHE’S BULIMIC
(Sickie Quickie to the Tune of “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”)
The colon’s long,
With many a winding turn;
The dinners that you prepare,
Should get there.
But the food,
Isn’t staying down at all;
She ain’t heavy,
She’s bulimic.
OUTRO
LADY A: That’s really sick humour, you know.
INTERVIEWER: I know.
Below is a vid showing the Hollies performing “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother”:
My lean run of form was to come to an end after this one – a week later I wrote a corker – but this lyric, like the several that preceded it, was missing the mark for the show.
Writing in March 2018, I realise that the notion of Italian politics being in a total mess is always topical and therefore (in a way) never topical.
WAKE YE UP SIGNORE AMATO
(To the Tune of “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go”)
Lines to be sung correspondingly by the corrupt and the law enforcers. Yehs, yehs to be provided by yourselves.
I’m pretty sure this was the evening that I cooked a chinese meal at my flat for Kim, Micky & Janie, only to discover that Kim’s at that time seemingly liberal vegetarian attitudes…
…she was veggie but didn’t at that time go on about it to others…
…had limits.
One of those limits was the sight of a whole animal; in this case a fish.
One of my specialities in those days was to steam a whole fish with ginger, spring onion, using a fair slurp of saki in the steaming water and a dash of soy sauce and coriander to garnish.
Yum.
So after serving starters; probably my signature won ton soup for most of us and something well-chosen and veggie for Kim…
…I’d have probably put quite a lot of thought into the veggie options for Kim that evening…
…I then served the mains including my piece de resistance, the fish.
All hell broke loose. Kim felt sick. Kim couldn’t believe that we could eat that. Kim was upset.
Janie, who knew Kim really well was surprised at that reaction…
…but then realised that she had never served anything that looked quite so “original form animal” as a whole fish. Somehow big prawns didn’t seem to have the same effect.
Anyway, i/we never did that again when Kim was coming round.
My lean run of writing continued into early March. I still had plenty of material in the show because I had written some corkers over Christmas and into January that were running and running.
This one was about the band Suede which must have been the most heavily hyped band since…
…the previously most heavily hyped band.
Anyway, here is the quickie, which understandably didn’t make the cut.
NEW SUEDE TUNES
(A quickie to the Tune of “Blue Suede Shoes”)
INTRO
And now, the band rock journalists have all been talking about;
The greatest band since………the last band we said was the greatest band;
The band you’ve all been waiting for;
Here they are, the one, the only:
Suede.
THE SONG
Well it’s:
One heap of money,
Two boring shows,
Three all screw the groupie,
Then go catch doses,
So don’t you,
Egg on those new Suede tunes,
Overhype anything,
But stay offa those new Suede tunes.
Below is a vid showing Elvis Presley singing Blue Suede Shoes:
I was going through a rich seam of unusable ideas at that time – late February to early March 1993 – perhaps the longest string of unused items in my whole NewsRevue writing (so-called) career.
I have a feeling that Janie and I took a long weekend in the Derbyshire peaks around that time, doing some walking in freezing temperatures and that I wrote a few of these duds there. Proof positive that I need warmth and comfort in order to be funny.
This lyric has some good lines; I think it is a good read. But it does not have performance quality to it.
ZAIRE OF THE BRAT
(To the Tune of “The Year Of The Cat”)
VERSE 1
Like an extra from a James Bond movie,
In a toque made of pure leopard’s skin;
He goes strolling through the crowds like Butelesi,
Contemplating a sin.
Now his name’s Mobutu and he may well shoot you,
If you say his country is in strife;
Don’t bother asking for resignations,
He’s the President for life,
In Zaire of the brat.
VERSE 2
In Kinshasa people don’t ask questions,
When he takes other’s wives for kicks;
Despite the rise of AIDS and such infections,
In the Zairian sticks.
Been allowed to stay ‘cos the USA,
Had maintained Mobutu by mistake;
George Bush was pushed and now Bill Clinton’s,
Leaving fire in his wake,
For this Zairian brat.
MIDDLE BIT
He’ll be overthrown ideally,
In Kinshasa by a more liberal team;
He speaks in poor French and Swahili,
Liked Ceausescu and reads Machiavelli,
He’s a Zairian brat.
VERSE 3
So this chief Mobutu Sese Seko,
Is an African man we should watch;
With his glass of pink Champagne in Belgian Congo,
He’s completely lost touch.
Since the sanctions came he’s not been the same,
‘Cos he knows he ought to be afraid;
Katanga, Zabanga, and he’s thrown over,
But for now he’s going to stay,
In Zaire of the brat.
Zaire of the brat.
I tried an update of this lyric, dated 23 May 1997, which I’m pretty sure also remained unused in NewsRevue:
ZAIRE OF THE BRATS
(To the Tune of “The Year Of The Cat”)
VERSE 1
Like an extra from a James Bond movie,
In a toque made of pure leopard’s skin;
He goes strolling through the crowds like Butelesi,
Contemplating a sin.
Now his name’s Mobutu and he don’t like Hutus,
Or Tutsis in his land of strife;
Don’t bother asking for resignations,
Thinks he’s President for life,
In Zaire of the brat.
VERSE 2
In Kinshasa people don’t ask questions,
They just pray that a change leads to peace;
Despite the rise of AIDS and such infections,
Amongst the poor Congolese.
Laurent Kabila is a wheeler dealer,
Let us hope he’s not a big mistake;
Off goes Mobutu with his prostate cancer,
Leaving fire in his wake,
In Zaire of the brats.
MIDDLE BIT
He’s been overthrown ideally,
In Kinshasa by Kabila and crew;
Who speak in English and Swahili,
Like Ceausescu and read Machiavelli,
Just more Zairean brats?
VERSE 3
So this chief Mobutu Sese Seko,
Is an African man on the skids;
With his glass of pink Champagne now in Morocco,
He’s not got long to live.
With his cancer such a pain in the crutch,
Perhaps a victim of a voodoo curse;
Katanga, Zabanga, and he’s thrown over,
For better or for worse,
In Zaire of the brats.
Zaire of the brats.
Below is a very good live vid of Al Stewart singing “Year Of The Cat”:
I’m pretty sure this one wasn’t used and I’m pretty sure that it’s lack of performance makes sense.
It reads better than it sings…
…and it doesn’t read all that well.
In later years, ideas of this kind, which flatter to deceive when they first come to mind, would sit on the jotter for years or for ever with just a few key words waiting for inspiration.
YOUNG ROGUES
(To the Tune of “Young Girl”)
INTRO – PC PLOD
Young rogues, offend all the time, delinquency is Britain’s top crime;
Tory old fogues will punish young rogues.
VERSE 1 – A TORY MINISTER (e.g. THE PM)
With all the charms of Atilla,
We’ve bred the outcasts of our youth;
We Tories do believe a short sharp shock behind the lock,
Will make these youngsters less uncouth.
CHORUS 1 – STILL THE TORY
Oh, oh, oh, young rogues, have got out of line,
We’ll build secure homes for them to serve time;
Read the Sun rogues, we should hang young rogues.
VERSE 2 – AN ANGLICAN MINISTER
Beneath their striped shirts and face masks,
They just are babies in disguise;
And as we know Tory policy is villainy,
The clergy wants to sympathise.
CHORUS 2 – STILL THE SOFT ANGLICAN
Oh, oh, oh, young rogues, are misunderstood,
And God believes all villains are good,
So have fun rogues, we forgive young rogues.
VERSE 3 – BACK TO THE PLOD
We take kids home to their mamas,
Who don’t care where their children are;
We want the law to make parents pay for kids affray,
Cos their misdeeds are down to pa.
CHORUS 3 – ALL THREE
Oh, oh, oh, young rogues, and juvenile crime,
We always claim “getting worse at this time”,
We can’t unfurl, the cause of young rogues.
Young rogues must follow our lead,
We teach them conflict, we teach them greed,
Do our dung vogues inspire the young rogues?
Below is a vid of Gary Puckett and the Union gap singing Young Girl:
Janie had originally intended to visit Phillie, Tony & Charlie in Germany that long weekend, but for reasons long since lost in the mists of time that idea fell through and I suggested, instead, a visit to Hope, in the Dark Peaks of Derbyshire.
Similar place.
The night before we set off reads “Lars Piss Up” in my diary, which I assume was the night of Lars Schiphorst‘s informal leaving do after work.
So I don’t suppose Janie and I set off for Derbyshire at the crack of dawn 26th.
I have/had long loved the Dark Peaks – one of the better kept secrets (amongst many) in the UK as places for stunning countryside, walking and away from the more touristic “usual suspect” places in the North.
In truth, the search for peace away from tourists in the beautiful parts of The North can be satisfied pretty much anywhere in February, but I didn’t know that back then.
Two or three years earlier, I had stumbled across a lovely place to stay, in Hope; Underleigh, when taking a brief sojourn out that way with Wendy Jacobi. We went at a more sensible time of year during 1990.
Lighter looking peaks, plus Wendy Jacobi, no doubt on the way to Hope
The one thing that Janie didn’t like about the place was the communal dining. Dinner, bed and breakfast was the deal in those days (no more, it seems). One big table with an expectation that whoever is staying makes up an informal dinner party for that evening.
We live and learn. Janie has such an aversion to such notions she/we positively avoid such places these days. In the UK they are much rarer now in any case, as the more individualistic culture has swept away the communal, dinner party chic.
The food was good there, albeit a bit rich, I recall. The owner/patrons were very friendly and helpful; a different family now, more than quarter of a century later, I should imagine but rave reviews still.
I remember Janie and I kitting ourselves out for this winter walking trip, with a visit to Millets in Kensington, I think the weekend before when we were at mine.
I also recall the icy walking being really quite difficult and treacherous for us, despite our new clobber. All the gear, but no idea.
Darker peak view from the 1990 trip – no photos from the February 1993 with Janie
Somehow we survived – thrived even – nonetheless, resolving to persevere with hill walking but probably to choose less challenging routes and seasons in future.
The only other specific thing I remember about this trip was a drink in a pub at a suitable stopping point on one of our walks. Janie looked at pictures on the wall of locals from a gurning competition. Janie wondered what they were about so I explained about competitive gurning.
That’s not a very challenging thing to do as a competition…
…said Janie, which motivated one of the locals to chime in to our conversation…
…it’s a lot harder than it looks. You try it…
…so Janie did.
A subsequent gurn some years later, Ethiopia, 2005
The handful of locals were seriously impressed.
I think we might have been bought drinks all afternoon had we hung around in that pub, but we beat our retreat while we were still on top. As much as anything else, we wouldn’t have risked that icy hill walking after any more than one drink.
We have occasionally returned to the Derbyshire Peaks since, although we in the end sort-of made the North York Moors “our place” for that sort of stunning, quite-challenging hill walking.
This will read like the weirdest lyric on earth without context, not least because, at the time of writing more than 25 years later (March 2018), Rolf Harris is mostly remembered for sex crimes.
Hence my lyric, which I don’t think was used much, if at all:
TWO LITTLE BOYS
(A Quickie to the Tune of “Stairway To Heaven”)
(This should emulate the Led Zeppelin sound as mush as possible, with the gentle guitar intro and a Robert Plant sound to the voice).
There were two little boys,
Who had two little toys;
And they each had a wooden horse.
And they both gaily played,
On those bright summer days;
They were warriors both of course.
(Getting increasingly angry – possibly even wielding a weapon at the end of the refrain)
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr;
And Rolf’s finding a sure way to heaven.
In case there is anyone reading this who doesn’t know what Stairway To Heaven sounds like…below is an embedded vid of Led Zeppelin doing their thing live:
